<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Play in the Key of Us by InquiryFoxtrot</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810375">Play in the Key of Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquiryFoxtrot/pseuds/InquiryFoxtrot'>InquiryFoxtrot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gbj JonElias Week [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Day 2: gift giving, Gbj JonElias week, Gift Giving, M/M, Not beta’d we die like archival assistants, Piano, more fluff!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquiryFoxtrot/pseuds/InquiryFoxtrot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonah had never expected to play for him. He’d never expected to even want to play for Jon. Falling in love had been an accident. But somewhere between only wanting to guide Jonathan’s Becoming and wanting to spend his life with him, Elias Bouchard decided he wanted to share with Jon the last piece of him that was still Jonah.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gbj JonElias Week [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Play in the Key of Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonah first learned piano late at night beneath the flicker of a candle and the stern gaze of his tutor. As he grew, the tutor left, but the piano stayed. Jonah never understood why this habit stayed, maybe it was because it was familiar, a reminder of a much simpler time. Maybe it was a reminder of what could have been, what his life was going to be if he’d never met Smirke. A physical representation of abandoned dreams. Maybe it was because when Jonah played he could forget everything that wasn’t the music in front of him or the keys beneath his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, even as the world changed around him; when friends were lost to new, terrifying gods, when those friends died (when Jonah killed them), when rituals failed but something else was gained, when institutes were established, when archivists came and went; Jonah’s piano stayed.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But few ever saw it. His piano was personal. It was something that was purely </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonah.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not Jonah Magnus, not Richard Mendelson or James Wright or Elias Bouchard, just . . . Jonah. He could count on his hands the number of people who’d seen his piano in his over two hundred years of life, even less who’d seen him play it. He had played for Mordechai, before he found his own god to serve, one that withdrew him not only from Jonah but from his own existence. He had played for Jonathan, before he wisened up and cut Jonah off completely. He had played for Barnabas, before he, well . . .</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then for a while he stopped playing entirely. It wasn’t until Jonah Magnus was dead and Jonah was all that was left that he touched his dusty, old piano again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He never played for anyone else. Until recently. Until Jon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonah had never expected to play for him. He’d never expected to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to play for Jon. Falling in love had been an accident. But somewhere between only wanting to guide Jonathan’s Becoming and wanting to spend his life with him, Elias Bouchard decided he wanted to share with Jon the last piece of him that was still Jonah. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Jon, beautiful, perfect Jon, was awed. He treasured this trust Jonah had placed with him, kissed him softly and asked if Jonah would play for him again. In that moment all Jonah felt was love. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he played again, and again, and again. He kept playing and kept reminding himself and Jon and the world how much he loved this man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And now Jonah was back beneath the flicker of candlelight, the keys beneath his fingers, and the music in front of him. But this time Jonah wasn’t just going to play for Jon. He was going to write for Jon, he was going to feel for Jon, he was going to make everything in this music for Jon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pictured Jon in his mind and let himself feel tenfold. He let himself be overwhelmed by his emotions for his Archivist and close his eyes and let melodies slip from his fingertips. And when all his emotion was laid raw on his sheet music, he fine tuned it. He fixed notes, changed keys, making every sound carefully calculated, every rest deliberate until he felt his soul in each line of music. Until he listened to what he created and only heard: Jon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After weeks of slaving away in the hours when Jonathan was at the Institute and Jonah was not, he finished. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sits Jon down across from him, who looks confusedly at Jonah’s tense frame.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this?” Jon asks. “You look tense, are you alright, love?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonah, feeling suddenly nervous, shakes his head. “No I’m alright. I have- I made you a gift, dearest,” He says and takes a deep breath. “Just- just listen.” And Jonah starts to play. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The music begins quiet, but intense. Jonah casts his mind out to Jon as his fingers slide over the keys, pressing into his mind thoughts, feelings, memories. He shows Jonathan life before him. When all Jonah cared about was shaping Archivists to meet his end. When his life was all sharp edges and poisonous words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The melody changes, but the volume remains the same. The tempo slows. Jonah shows Jon when he begins to care. When his Archivist stopped being a means to an end and began to be someone he cared about, someone he looked forward to seeing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The music crescendos and the melody is bright and light and Jonah relishes in the memory of his own delight when Jon loved him too. Makes sure Jon sees how Jonah felt alive when Jon smiled at him and how lightning crackled on his skin the first time Jon kissed him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonah plays louder still, the melody filled with yearning, with want. He shows Jon futures. How he wants to wake up every morning beside him. He shows him distant afternoons walking the streets of London hand in hand. He fantasizes of evenings with a glass of wine and dinner for two. He muses about a cat . . . or seven. He shows Jon how he has given Jonah the courage to hope.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the music quiets, the tempo slows. The melody is soft, the melody is love, the melody is now. Jonah shows Jon all the love he has for him. All the little things: how Jonah’s heart skipped a beat the first time he saw Jon in a suit, the way his chest felt warm when Jon looked at him like he was the only person who mattered. He shows Jon how he is brimming with care and joy and protection and want and hope and that it is because of Jon. Jonah shows Jon his soul and lets the last note ring. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They sit in silence for a moment before Jonah musters the courage to speak. “Jonathan, you are my darling, my love, my life. ‘I love you’ is not enough to express all I feel for you. Nothing is. But I supposed this was the closest I could get.” Jonathan closes his mouth, swallows. Jonah can See him trying to find the right words to say. Nothing he thinks in this moment is coherent but Jonah gets the gist, </span>
  <em>
    <span>love. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My heart, my love,” Jon’s voice breaks. “My light. You are everything to me. You’re right, ‘I love you’ is not enough. You are who I look forward to seeing everyday, you make me feel protected and cared for and so so loved and I hope with all my heart I make you feel the same. The fact that you would do this for me is- is- it’s perfect. Thank you, Jonah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Jonah's eyes get a little misty then it’s no matter, because Jonah is here, at his piano, under soft candlelight, with the love of his life and he is where he is meant to be.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day 2 done!! I love writing about music so I hope ya enjoy this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>